


Affairs of Men

by Aryagraceling



Series: Rare Pair Central [9]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/M, Falling In Love, Forest Guardian Naras, Hurt/Comfort, Iruka and Tenzou are Senju, Kisame "tf are manners" Hoshigaki, MerMay, On Hiatus, Prompt: Fire and Ice, Selectively Mute Sakura, Shapeshifting, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, Water Guardian Kisame, faun Tenzou, merman kisame, selkie Iruka
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-02-29 10:10:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18776146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryagraceling/pseuds/Aryagraceling
Summary: After they took everything from him, Kisame swore never to meddle in the affairs of men.He didn't think he'd have to make an exception for a woman.





	1. Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> Major thematic tags added, will add others as they come up.
> 
>  _I'm not going to do MerMay,_ I said. After seeing [art](https://www.deviantart.com/lpilz/gallery/45882055/Kisame-x-Sakura) of them (seriously, go check it out--it's _stunning_ ), I couldn't not do it.
> 
> Also vaguely stemmed from fond memories of singing [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kxTghSZupv8) at a choir festival in days gone by.

Winter was always a hard time for Kisame. He wasn’t far enough north to freeze, but when the waters turned frigid there wasn’t much to do but curl on the seabed in a sealskin coat. Heartbeats turned sluggish, each swish of water over his gills stealing another bit of heat from him. He could leave, yes, go to the cabin upriver, but then who would keep watch over the sleeping sea?

With villages springing up left and right up and down the coast, one could never be too careful. He’d seen the way his kin were ignored or worse, cut down by humans who thought of nothing but their ‘superiority.’ They took and took until the sea gave up, and Kisame’s people with it. One by one they fled to deeper waters unsullied by human hands, but Kisame remained.

_ Fool,  _ they called him. 

“Come with us,” his mother had begged. “There’s nothing for you here, Kisame, they’ll put you to death.”

He’d stayed because where there was patches of untouched shoreline, there was hope. Every time he swam through the small cove to the mouth of the river that ran past the most recent village--Konoha, the forest had whispered to him--he looked to the cliff faces and up the banks to see Konoha wasn’t like the rest.

With winter, though, he hadn’t been there for months. The thought chilled him as he accidentally swam too close to a current, cold blasting his face before he got a hold of himself. Weeds caught at his arms and he chided himself before breaking free and swimming to the surface. Wind whipped through his hair, crystallizing it into ice almost as soon as he broke the water’s hold, and he was relieved to find not even a sign of life near the beached boats on shore. 

Perhaps they’d decided the village was no longer worth it.

He ducked back under and pulled the coat closer around him, a shudder rippling from his shoulders to the very tip of his fin. It was cold enough he was having a hard time bending it and that  _ should  _ be enough to prompt him to flee to the cabin, but…

The guilt when he thought of what he was leaving behind for the sake of comfort was nearly overwhelming. “Won’t be any use rotting on the sand, though,” he grumbled, scraping his tail over a rock as he swam in anxious circles. “I shouldn’t, should I? Also no use sitting by the fire while everything else dies around me.”

He swam in another circle before snatching a passing fish and downing it, blood trickling down his throat. Perhaps the change would be worth it. Breaking through the ice up the river would be worth it for a fire, any more warmth than what little the coat provided. “Screw it.”

There wasn’t much he kept for himself in the cove. His family had carved out a small grotto on the northernmost point, tucked away behind a small outcropping. People had largely stayed away from it, no one bold enough to explore and see if the legends were true, if the guardians enjoyed the taste of human flesh.

Kisame had always hated that rumor.

“Don’t want to eat one, don’t want to talk to one, don’t even want to look at one,” he mumbled. He took in what oxygen he could before shuffling over to where he kept an extra coat and the rocks his parents had left behind when they went away. “More trouble than they’re worth, always ruining because they don’t understand.”

The larger animals he tended in the water flocked to him when he swam back out. He didn’t expect to see any of the whales bringing word of family this close to shore, but the seals gamboled freely without the orcas around. It wasn’t as hard for them, he supposed--they were built for winter. 

_ We’re worried,  _ they told him.  _ More boats every week. More nets, more spears. _

“I know,” he said, pressing his face to one’s side. “I’m going to try and fix it.”

_ No one else left,  _ she remarked.

“You still have me.” He sent her a saw-toothed grin before patting her head and swimming toward open water. Somehow the chill didn’t feel quite so pronounced as he passed by the cliffs guarding his slice of life. Coat bundled in his arms, he shot down the shoreline and scanned for anything out of place. 

Though the seals spoke of danger, there wasn’t much to be found. A ship had gone down several miles down, in what used to be his sister’s territory. She’d been slain when Suna congregated, put down in the most merciless fashion. He still remembered the way she’d reached toward him, blood blooming in a cloud behind the harpoon embedded in her shoulder. That had been the final straw for his parents.

“They’ll keep coming,” his father hissed, unable to control the venom seeping into his tone. “I’m not losing you too.”

His mother had been kinder, cajoling. “Don’t make us go through another loss, child,” she’d said, cupping Kisame’s cheek with a warm hand. “Come away with us. Humans lack the capacity to care for our kind, and the sea.”

“That’s why I need to stay,” he’d whispered. “It needs a guardian.”

He’d buried his sister under a rock that had collapsed just days before she passed. Today, nearly two years later, he swam past with a glance at the jagged surface. He made it out once every few months, at least, and did not want to waste precious time sitting still and feeling his veins begin to freeze. 

It was a lonely life he led these days. Haku had gone first, his southern dominion the first to fall to ruin. Zabuza hadn’t lasted a month before he followed his partner. Mei had gone third, then Yagura, then Kushimaru, and everyone else until it was only Kisame left. He loved the sea. He loved the creatures in his care, from the smallest plant to the largest whale, but they were not  _ companions.  _

They weren’t family.

He took the long route through open water instead of keeping to the shoreline as he circled back north. To his surprise that was lonely too, only distant calls from the deep to stir his heart. Much of the wildlife had fled with the rest of the merfolk, warned to keep away if they could, but he didn’t usually make it out this far anymore. He didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. 

If tears would do any good in the ocean, he’d consider shedding some. It was a feeling not unlike a whale he’d heard tales of from the deep south--no one around attuned to her cries, no one to call friend. He missed having others of his kind around to do things as simple as swim around with. 

The northern shore was just as barren, and Kisame took one last lingering look at the open ocean before turning back to the cove. It felt almost like failure. Merfolk were meant to keep things healthy, keep things balanced and in check. Permanently migrated wildlife was none of that. 

_ We’ll miss you,  _ the seal called to him before swimming over. Kisame smiled softly this time,  _ barely,  _ and she ignored his insistence she didn’t need to swim him as far as she could.  _ We will miss you,  _ she insisted as the rest of them gathered behind him.  _ Please don’t leave us for too long. _

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “This place is home. It’s all I have left.”

_ Will we be able to contact you? _

“The deer will come down river once a week,” he said. “You remember the place?”

_ Right there!  _ a young pup exclaimed, pointing with his tail to where the river met the sea.

“Good,” Kisame rumbled. 

The pup looked nervously between his mother and Kisame until Kisame held open his free arm.  _ Go on,  _ his mother urged.  _ This shark doesn’t bite. _

“I promise,” Kisame said, and the pup smacked into his side hard enough to push him back a few feet. “Strong,” he wheezed. “What are you feeding him?”

_ Only the best,  _ the seal laughed, and the rest followed her as she bid him goodbye.

He would miss them too. Watching the pups grow was one of the joys he held close to his heart, something that was few and far between these days. The water bit at his skin as he travelled further, the transition from saltwater to fresh a necessary evil. It nearly felt like burning, it was so cold, and he looked up to see snow falling. “Shit,” he said. Snow meant ice, and ice meant a damn hard time scrambling up the bank so his human form wasn’t frozen by the time it climbed to the cabin.

Fish swam out of his way as he kept moving, wriggling much more than was necessary in an attempt to warm himself. It wouldn’t particularly matter if he froze on the slope up--well, any more than him  _ dying  _ would matter--because the cabin was far enough from Konoha no one but the deer came that way.

He hoped it had remained far from civilization and unharmed. There was always a bit of disarray, but leave a place long enough and it always fell apart. He’d need to push through and gather more wood for the fire, shake the lingering pain of transformation from his limbs in search of long-term comfort. 

The waters grew shallow as he drew nearer, and it felt as though he was swimming through shards of glass. He hadn’t even hit the ice yet. “Damn it,” he mumbled. He shouldn’t have waited so long. His fingers were turning waxier by the second and though he was still a distance from the cabin, he hefted himself onto the snowy bank. 

Shifting was always painful. Bones and cartilage ground together and sharkskin gave way to the same grey-blue of his top half and he  _ tried  _ not to cry out, but with the cold his resolution gave out. Blood dripped down his chin from where his teeth cut into his bottom lip, the crimson in stark contrast to the snow falling around him as his body changed. He dragged himself slowly away from the water, the dripping from the sealskin already freezing on his skin. 

He  _ hated  _ having to do this.

He attempted to get his feet under him and failed miserably. Bolts of pain shot down through his new appendages and he groaned again, hoping none of the fae were around to witness him sliding down the bank like a child. The snowflakes that fell on his skin didn’t even melt, he was so cold, and he froze completely when he finally stumbled into view of the cabin.

There should not have been smoke coming from the chimney.

 

**

Winter was never kind to Sakura. From the year the cold had taken her father in the forest to the illness that had claimed her mother--her protection from the quickly banding villages.  _ Kissed by fire,  _ they called her, and when that fire came to claim her for witchcraft, she ran. 

She ran from the men who sought to burn her for her knowledge, and she ran from the women who sought to burn her for attempting to teach them the ways of the forest. Through the trees and over hills, she ran, until at long last she stumbled across an abandoned cabin. There was a thick layer of dust over everything when she managed to break through the door. The wood in the box by the door was dry, though, and lit easily. As the first snows fell around her, she wept. 

There had never been reason to hate her. She was a good woman, a good healer. Helpful. But where she saw joy others saw only the arcane, and over the years they’d grown to believe the spirits were something to be afraid of. Where men felt fear, they felt anger, and where they felt anger, hate festered. 

Days passed and the snow piled high before the guardians visited her. She’d cleaned up what she could of the cabin, leaving everything intact for the owner if they decided to come back, when the first knock came. Sakura froze. She could not afford another trek through the forest, especially with the freeze, and the thought she might brush death again rattled her.

The energy that washed over her was anything  _ but  _ the feel of death. “Away,” she heard Yoshino say, along with the trampling of hooves. “Sakura? We tracked you here, dear. Are you alone?”

She nearly collapsed into the woman upon opening the door. Several deer scattered at the crack of wood on wood but it didn’t matter, because Yoshino’s arms surrounded her and chased the sting of rejection away. 

“I’m so sorry,” Yoshino whispered. Her hand smoothed over Sakura’s hair before guiding her back inside. “Shikaku and I tried to come after you but with the chaos--” she sat Sakura down and pulled a blanket from the bed in the corner-- “They almost came for Neji and Hinata after they’d found you gone. Men know not what they need.”

Sakura nodded and held the blanket tighter. She’d been sleeping on top of it, not wanting to get too comfortable in a place that wasn’t meant for her. It smelled like an old ocean breeze, stale salt and a faint hint of fish, but even that was enough to remind her that she was yet again an outsider.

“Have you eaten? We can’t have you freezing out here, or starving” Yoshino said. She puttered around the kitchen as Sakura shook her head.  _ Knowing  _ someone was safe didn’t matter now, but Yoshino didn’t press. “Of course he doesn’t keep anything here,” she continued to herself. “Suppose it wouldn’t do him much good if he can catch things in the stream.”

Sakura wanted to tell her not to worry, that she could take care of herself. She’d survived through worse winters. A few days without food as she got back on her feet was more than manageable. The cabinets had been thoroughly picked over by either another passing through or an animal, but she’d be able to find something once she got her bearings.

“I can hear you thinking,” Yoshino said before sitting next to her. “I’ll send Shikaku with some supplies--” Sakura shook her head violently and Yoshino amended-- “I can bring some, then. Winter isn’t exactly known for being easy to find food. I’m just glad you found your way to this place. Though this close to freeze…”

Wind began to stir the trees as Sakura got up and tucked herself under Yoshino’s arm with the ghost of a smile on her lips. 

“Ahh, it’ll be okay,” Yoshino said. Both leaned back against the counter as she stroked down Sakura’s arm. “He’ll spend a long time in the water this year. Always has, since his family left.” At Sakura’s questioning glance, she smiled. “Unlike my family, the water guardians were able to escape the spread of your kind. This is his home when the cold becomes too much. If he comes, do not be afraid.”

_ Dangerous.  _ The Naras had taken pity on her, forest guardians willing to protect  _ all  _ creatures within, even a child who had wandered for days in search of her father. Ever since they’d taken care of her. From their child bringing her the first flowers of spring to Shikaku bringing her herbs she needed to take care of her mother, the family had been there.

Their interactions likely hadn’t helped the charges against her, but gratitude won over fear.

“He can come off a little strong,” Yoshino said with a small laugh. “He doesn’t have many friends these days, I’m afraid, and we can’t always get to the cove to be with him. But he  _ is  _ good, Sakura, and I know men are a...touchy thing for you these days, but if he shows up he will not hurt you.”

After a long pause and the decision to vacate immediately if that happened, Sakura nodded slowly. That was enough for Yoshino, and she fussed for almost another hour before leaving with the promise to bring food the next day. The next day came and went, then the next, and the next until days snowballed into weeks, which snowballed into halfway through the chill of February as Yoshino’s warnings remained unnecessary.

It was not a  _ pleasant  _ time, but for the first time in a long time, Sakura felt free. More often than not she had to stretch what food she could, but the growling in her stomach meant she was alive and unharmed. Every freezing breath in her lungs on the way to gather wood was a reminder she’d gone on despite everything. Quiet nights lit by the fire became cherished and when she was walking back from picking a bucket of water from the stream, it all shattered.

She saw his hair first. It was a dark blue stain against the wood of the cabin, flopping over pale skin and yellow eyes that glinted in the fading sun. What looked like deep gashes lined his naked shoulders as he slumped against the wall. His shaking was visible even from down the hill and when he reached for her, opening his mouth to speak, her bucket slipped from her hands to soak her feet. 

He didn’t get the chance to get a word in before her scream ripped through the forest.


	2. Serenity

Whoever she was, she was  _ loud.  _ Kisame growled and ducked the best he could as she picked up the bucket and whipped it at him, eyes wide and terrified. He barely managed to avoid getting his head hit. “The fuck is your problem?” he rasped. “This is my house.”

She fell hard onto the snow when he stepped toward her. Fear was obvious in her scent, potent under the crisp scent of winter. With every inch forward she trembled harder and really, all he wanted was the piercing yell to die down. It was one of the reasons he’d picked the forest, after all, the  _ quiet.  _

“Why,” he said, muscles screaming as he crouched in front of her, “are you in my house?”

He did not expect the sharp sting of a hand across his cheek. The redhead scrambled away, but not before shoving him off balance and nearly back into the river. Her chest heaved below a heavy cloak, breath harsh now after traumatizing his ears. A few stray sounds left her but no words as her face twisted with anger. 

“Get out.” Kisame struggled to stand, yet again slipping as he drew himself to his full height. He looked down, lips curled in a grimace. “You do not belong here. Don’t you know there’s dangerous things in the wo--”

She darted forward and hit him again, sweeping his feet out from under him as her fist connected with his chest. There was nothing to stop him from sliding the few feet down the bank and breaking through the thin ice on the side of the river this time, and he nearly took in a lungful of water before he came to his quickly-fading senses. 

He sputtered as he got up. “I’m not trying to hurt you, gods! Calm down!” Blood began to bead on his chest from where the ice had snagged, tearing through frozen flesh as viciously as he ripped through sailors threatening his home. “Stop, stop, stop,” he said, hands in front of him defensively as she picked up a branch from the ground. “I swear, I live here.”

Her breath fogged the air in front of her as she hefted it higher.

“Please--” He could no longer feel his feet, and the way she was looking at him said she didn’t care. “Just let me--”

“Hey,” a voice snapped from the edge of the forest. “Sakura,  _ stop.”  _

Kisame fell to his knees as he watched a woman all but fly over the snow to pull the stick from the redhead’s hand and tuck her to her chest. “Yoshino,” he croaked, reaching a hand out.

“Shikaku,” she called. “Help him.”

From the trees, a large stag stepped forward. Its head swung back and forth, surveying the scene, before walking over to Kisame and offering a massive antler to help drag him from the water. A smaller deer stepped out from behind him, helping nose Kisame onto the bank. 

“Take him home,” Yoshino ordered. “We’ll figure this out, all right?”

“L-long ti-time, no s-see,” Kisame said, teeth chattering as the younger deer helped him onto Shikaku’s back. Shikaku groaned under the weight but walked ahead anyway, attempting to pull Kisame’s deadening arms over his antlers. “Who’s the woman?”

All he got was a snort from Shikamaru beside them. Snowflakes filtered through the pines to settle on their fur, dusting the tawny color white as they fled deeper into the forest. Kisame held on the best he could. Frozen fingers did not make it easy, but the promise of a place to warm himself without being hit was all he cared about and he would do anything to make that a reality.

“Don’t know why you let her stay,” he whispered. The trees began to thin, giving way to a small clearing not unlike the one his cabin sat in. Instead of overgrowth, however, theirs was carefully maintained. Every decoration had its place, and even the bare patches where the garden bloomed in summer were smooth and untouched. “Been here at all?”

Shikaku shook his antlered head before stopping at the door. The stoop was mostly cleared, only a light coating of snow, and Kisame landed hard on his knees as a clean, pure energy erupted behind him. There was a moan, a groan, and a few popping sounds, but then the gravelly tones of Shikaku’s voice shook his bones. “You’re late.”

“Had s-stuff to do,” Kisame said. An arm reached over him to open the door and he nearly fell in, dragging himself across the threshold and wincing at the sudden blast of warmth from the fire in the corner. “Shit.”

“We were expecting you earlier,” Shikaku continued, gathering bandages and medical supplies. “Meant to inform you, but things are getting complicated in the village. We try not to come out here as often, but you happened to catch us on a supply day.”

The door opened again, Shikamaru walking in with a low groan and shaking his hair. “I keep telling you I’ll be the runaround,” he grumbled. “I don’t mind being out of the village. Less trouble for me to deal with.” 

“No less tr-trouble out here,” Kisame said. Shikaku tossed him a blanket from the box in the corner and he grunted in thanks as he wrapped it around himself. “Look at me.”

“You’re of the water, not of the land,” Shikamaru said. He flopped into the old rocking chair by the corner and looked out the small window, sighing as he rocked. “You have somewhere to retreat when they come for you. They nearly took Neji and Hinata a week ago.” 

Kisame looked to Shikaku in question.

“That’s the reason she’s living in your cabin,” the older Nara said. He knelt before Kisame and tugged the blanket open, dabbing at the wounds on his chest with a rag as he took a hissing breath. “She really got you good, didn’t she?”

“Because I was vulnerable.”

“Regardless…” Shikaku trailed off, the cracking logs soon the only sound besides Kisame’s irritated breathing. 

“Dad.” Shikamaru straightened in the chair, catching sight of something beyond Kisame’s vision. “She’s coming.”

“Who?” Shikaku asked.

“Mom and Sakura.”

“Is that her name?” Kisame growled. “I’ve got some things to say to her.”

“You’ll be quiet and let us explain,” Shikaku said sharply, and Kisame clicked his tongue before scooting back to lean against the wall. He brushed Shikaku’s hands away, and Shikaku raised an eyebrow. “Do I need to bring out my fathering voice?”

“I’m not going to bleed out,” Kisame said. “I’ll be fine.”

A knock on the door jolted all three from their staring. Their gazes flew to the door and as it opened, Kisame drew the blanket over his head. He watched through the small opening as Yoshino came through, then the woman.  _ Slowly.  _ Her skirt clicked on the floor--really, it was too cold for her to have come-- and she tucked her arms close to her chest as she looked over with blazing green eyes. 

“You,” he rumbled.

“Kisame,” Yoshino said. 

“She can start by explaining why she’s in my place,” Kisame said.

Sakura’s nose wrinkled, skin around her eyes bunching when she inhaled. She shook her head with an agitated noise and Yoshino put an arm around her shoulders. “What’s wrong, Sakura?”

She pointed at Kisame.

“I told you about the water guardian,” Yoshino said gently. She steered Sakura to look the other way, busying their hands with something on the counter. “Didn’t I say they’d come? He’d be home soon?”

Another aggravated noise, and Kisame let the blanket fall. “Did I  _ scare  _ her?” he asked. “Big, bad, human come to take what they can while it’s unattended? Why are you hiding her?  _ Is  _ she human?”

“She’s human as any of the villagers,” Yoshino snapped. “Sit. Down.”

“Then  _ what  _ is she  _ doing  _ in my  _ sanctuary?” _

Sakura stilled completely at his raised voice, shrinking in on herself like snow melting in the river. In the seconds that followed, Kisame watched her shoulders move once, twice in a breath, and then Shikaku was blocking his view with his arms crossed and frowning. “If you’d think with your twice-damned head instead of your feelings, you’d let  _ us  _ tell you.”

“She’s human!”

“She’s running away!” Everyone looked to the corner, where Shikamaru was slowly rising from his chair with a scowl on his face. “She’s doing the same thing we all are, because they don’t care about those who follow the old ways anymore. Hell, we  _ are  _ the old ways, and look at what they’ve done to us.”

“Shikamaru-” Yoshino began.

“I want to hear what he has to say,” Kisame said, cutting her off.

Shikamaru crossed the room and sat next to him on the bed, tucking his legs under himself. “Thank you,” he said, quieter now. “They don’t trust her because they think she’s a witch. Think she’s sold her soul or something, because of what her hands can do.”

“If you would calm down, you’d see,” Shikaku said, holding his own up. “I swear, she’s got a contract with someone in the spirit realm. Takes one look at a man and can heal what ails him.”

There was muffled whispers from behind him, and Yoshino came over to lay her chin on Shikaku’s shoulder. “Humans aren’t all bad, Kisame,” she said. “Remember me when you’re on your pedestal about them.”

“Her kind are.”

“The kind who heal, who help?” Shikaku asked. 

Yoshino went back to calming Sakura down, and Kisame shook his head. “Why should I believe you? And why didn’t you keep here here instead?”

“Well…” Shikaku exchanged a look over his shoulder with Yoshino, then turned back to the bed. “Sakura has...a...problem, I suppose, would be one way of putting it.”

“And my p--”

“She doesn’t like men,” Shikamaru interrupted. “For a good reason.”

“I helped heal her burns,” Shikaku said softly. When his eyes met Kisame’s, there was anger and sadness swirling in the brown depths. “They rounded her up, named her witch, and tried to b--”

“Shikaku,” Yoshino said over Sakura’s labored breathing. “Not now.”

Remorse and confusion in equal parts flooded through Kisame’s thawing veins, and he pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “Oh.”

“I didn’t realize you were going to be half-dead when you climbed up the bank,” Yoshino said. “I would have done things differently were that the case.” Kisame heard another faint whisper, and Yoshino’s smile was strained when she looked to him. “Is there any chance you’d consider staying here until spring?”

_ Staying here  _ meant another year without what little remained of his family.  _ Staying here  _ meant another person taking that from him. The thought filled him with grief, the feeling more poignant that the thought he’d die before even reaching it. “I would rather she does.”

“What will be best, though?” Shikaku asked.

“Me being close to my river,” Kisame said. He leaned back against the wall, letting his head thud back against the wood with a  _ thump  _ that drew Sakura’s eyes. “I’m fine, girl, no thanks to you.”

“Don’t,” Shikamaru warned. 

“My  _ life  _ is that river,” Kisame said. “This place is too far inland. It’s not safe for me.”

“We brought you here to make sure you were all right,” Shikaku said. He sat down on Kisame’s other side, affording Kisame an uninterrupted view of Sakura as Yoshino rubbed a hand down her arm. “We can figure out the rest when you get some rest.”

“Fine. Take me to my home, and I’ll go to sleep.”

Shikaku took up the same position as Shikamaru and sighed the same troubled sigh. “Shikamaru and I were using this place as an escape,” he said. “Yoshino was staying in town because she’s less suspicious than the animals flocking to us whenever we step out the door.”

“Have we really let things get so bad?” Kisame asked. 

“You’ve seen it from the coast.” Shikamaru put his arms on his knees and huffed before burying his face. “They’re coming in droves, from everywhere. The Inuzukas have been driven back to the mountains, we’ve all but ceased our activity in the forest, the Hyuugas are in the process of packing up and leaving the village...oh, the Aburame let loose a swarm last summer everyone thought was the plague come to get them all before disappearing.”

“It almost feels like it should have been,” Yoshino said. Sakura made several gestures to her, and she nodded. “It nearly destroyed Sakura’s garden as well, but she managed.”

“I keep saying we should leave,” Shikamaru muttered. “We’ll be discovered sooner or later.”

“It might be time to think seriously about it,” Shikaku agreed.

Sakura tucked herself further into the counter, carefully avoiding Kisame’s eyes.

“Where would you go?” he asked.

“Here, for now,” Shikaku said. “Further as they advance.”

Yoshino shook her head with a scoff. “That we have to leave because they don’t understand is absurd,” she said. “Absolute shit.”

“I’d rather you alive than dead,” Shikaku said gently. He extended a hand and Yoshino took it, sitting between his legs and leaning back against him. “Sakura, please...would you be willing to stay here? We’re the same as you. Safe.”

She shook her head and Kisame watched her throat work before, in a voice hoarse from disuse, she spoke. “Home.”

**

The man was even more terrifying up close. Beady black eyes rimmed with a yellowed white, rough blue skin, and a mouth of teeth better suited for a shark than a person...he was a horror. Sakura listened to the rasp in his voice as he talked with the Naras about fleeing humanity. All she’d wanted to do was remain, but now…

She was exhausted, all fight drained from her. “Home,” she whispered, fighting past the lump in her throat when Shikaku asked her if she wanted to stay. She didn’t. She wanted to run again, as far away as possible. The scent of saltwater threatened to pull her under and she trembled when Shikamaru got up to get a drink. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he reminded. “I’m not one of them.”

But he still walked and talked like a man.

On the bed, Kisame was barely controlling his frustration. Shikaku had begun to prod at him again, trying to assess the damage she’d done, and the guardian was having none of it. “Let...me... _ go,”  _ he growled, pushing Shikaku to the side as he stood. He loomed over all of them. Looking out the window as the wind picked up, he narrowed his eyes. “I’ll see if I can make it back before the storm hits for real.”

“You’re not going to,” Shikaku said.

Sakura gestured from Yoshino to the door worriedly, and Yoshino took her lip between her teeth and began to chew. “Figure it out soon,” the woman said. “It’s coming quickly.” 

“I can run with Sakura,” Shikaku said, “but I can’t take another trip with you on my back, Kisame.”

“So let me go.”

Sakura stared at the mounting tension until the wind whipped a stray branch into the side of the house. It shook her, and she took the chance when everyone else was recovering to rush out the door. She could do it. She could fight away the bitter cold and return to safety, she was positive. It wasn’t too far, maybe a mile. A mile was easy. She’d run more than that before. 

Snow sprayed as she trudged on. There was some noise behind her and she looked back to see Shikamaru galloping, gaining quickly. “No,” she gasped, and fell with a cry when she tripped on a buried root. Her hands flew up as he paused, coating her in freeze when he stopped short. There they stayed, motionless, until Shikaku trotted up as well. Kisame came close behind, layered in clothes several sizes too small.

“Don’t know where the fuck you think you’re going,” he said.

“Home.”

“That’s not your home.” Wind whistled through the trees as they stared one another down before Shikaku shoved Kisame forward with an antler. “Hey,” he snapped. “No pushing.”

Shikaku did it again, just before the flakes started coming down larger. 

“You don’t seem stupid,” Kisame relented, but Sakura rejected the hand he offered in favor of pulling herself up. “We’ll both get lost or hurt if we don’t hurry. Look around. You know it’ll happen.”

_ Confusing.  _ Sakura started forward again, doing her best to put as much distance between herself and the others as possible. They allowed her, and when the cabin came into view she put on a burst of speed. A pile of white blew in when she opened the door but that didn’t particularly matter. Easily cleanable.

What wasn’t was the blue hand that stopped it from slamming shut. “I don’t give a damn who you’re running from, Sakura, but I’m not dying because you’re scared,” Kisame said. 

Shikaku’s energy bloomed from beyond the wood, and he stuck his head in. “If you two are so stubborn, spend the night here for all I care,” he said. “You’d better be here when we get back. I’m not sure when that will be.”

Kisame shut the door in his face with a curt nod and all but ignored Sakura gaping in the kitchen as he went for the bed. Within no time, he’d wrapped himself in the blankets she’d been using for months and growled. “These smell like you.”

She continued to stare.

“I don’t like it.” He curled into himself like a child and turned away, the broad expanse of his back covered by the black wool. “Make a fucking fire if you’re going to just stand there.” When she didn’t move again, he peered out from beneath the blanket with hardened eyes. “I’m not going to touch you. I currently want nothing to  _ do  _ with you, but since you’re here as long as the storm lasts, make yourself useful.” 

Defiance won the battle with dread. “No.”

“No?” The blanket fell, his face pinching in anger. “And if I threaten to rid the water of life come summer, when you’re searching for food?”

She swallowed hard, trying to stop her lip from quivering. “No.”

Kisame rolled over and sat up, wincing as he stood. “If I tell you I’ll put you out with the snow and wild things with just your pretty cloak?” he asked, drawing closer until he was nearly on top of her. “If I threatened to show you the true meaning of beast?”

This time, no words came. She shut her eyes, bit her lip, and shook her head rapidly.

“Sit in silence, then,” he said, and the next second he’d pulled away to lumber over to the wood pile in the corner. She stood as he stacked kindling. She stood as he gathered the flint. She stood as he coaxed the flame higher until the cabin was once again warm, heating her frozen bones. “Sleep wherever,” he continued. “But don’t you dare touch me. You’re not injuring me on my land again.”

Sakura sat down hard when he curled back up on the bed. She stayed there until his breathing came slow and even, and the moon hung low over the trees. The fire nearly died before she risked getting up and stoking it again, and she huddled with one of the discarded blankets near the window. 

Perhaps in sleep, the guardian wasn’t so bad. The rough edges smoothed themselves away with every harsh breath, the sting of his words lessening when she wrapped her head around the fact that no matter what he said, he  _ hadn’t  _ hurt her. Raised his voice, been a cock, sure, but he hadn’t laid a hand on her. Hadn’t even tried. “Kisame,” she breathed, and though it hurt, his name didn’t hurt quite as much as silence. “Home.”


	3. Shatter

Kisame missed being surrounded by people he knew he could trust. He’d slept for nearly a full day as his body healed, being distant from the water making it much harder, and when he woke in the middle of the night, Sakura was nowhere to be found. “Good riddance,” he mumbled, attempting to work saliva into his dry mouth. “Shit.”

At least she’d kept the fire lit. 

He sat down in the chair with a low groan, bones in his legs creaking with disuse. The blanket scratched the skin of his useless gills and he let it drop to his waist, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and bury his face in his hands. “What a mess,” he said softly. “What’s your problem, Shikaku?”

Worry came crashing down around him as he considered the situation, then a bolt of pure dread when he heard something clicking outside of the cabin. There was none of the telltale energy signifying demons, but he’d had enough run-ins with their hellfire to know better than to be complacent. He ducked down low and covered himself when it didn’t stop. 

_Click, click, click._

“Who’s there?”

_Click, click, click._

Kisame’s eyes darted around the space as he searched for something, anything, to use as a weapon. He settled on the wrought-iron poker. The door loomed closer as the noise sounded again, three times, as always. 

_Click._

_Click._

_Click._

The normal sounds of the forest night were muted under the fresh blanket of snow, the chittering of squirrels and calls of owls fading to quiet and leaving only the infernal noise to haunt him. “Sakura?” he hissed. “Cut it out.” He hefted the poker above his shoulder and eased the lock on the door back before stepping out with a wild yell, only to be met with the beating wings of an angry bird that sending fire from the lanterns into his face. “Wh--”

“Shh,” came a whisper from the woods. _Sakura._ “The Senju.”

“A-fuck, don’t--” Kisame took a step back, shielding himself with the door. “They haven’t been seen for near a hundred years,” he called. The bird flew to light on a branch by the window as it continued to shriek at him. “Why would they show up now?”

Sakura was silent as she stepped from the treeline. Her cloak dragged over the ice and snow with a low rasp, forcing the kestrel’s eyes to her. She held her hands up placatingly, and the bird’s cries quieted as it flew to perch on her wrist, craning its head to stare at her.

“It’s a damned bird,” Kisame said, shivering. “Not a god.”

The kestrel chittered at him.

“Keep it outside,” he grunted. “I don’t want it shitting in the house.” He shut the door on the sight of Sakura dragging a knuckle over the bird’s back, earning a pleased ruffle of feathers. “One day,” he said. “Shouldn’t even need to ask for that, but a day to adjust without all this other nonsense would be nice.”

Thankfully Sakura had also kept the water bucket filled, and he drank deep before returning to the fireside. “Senju,” he muttered. They’d been absent for longer than _his_ family had, withdrawing from the land and leaving it vulnerable to the whims of man and beast. “I suppose we don’t need them anyway,” he continued, bringing a finger to his lips in thought. “Unless…” 

_Unless it’s worse than I thought._

He shook his head. “A problem for tomorrow,” he said. “Along with figuring out how in the hell I’m going to get her out of here.”

The door opened, Sakura slipping through silently with no bird in tow. Her eyes shone in the firelight as she looked to him. The look on her face was, for once, not one of fear, but one of child-like wonder, her smile tugging at her lips before she ducked her head.

“What makes you think they care about us anymore?” he asked.

She didn’t answer, not that he was expecting much. She did, however, pull down a small kit from the cupboard and hold it nervously out toward him, gesturing to the half-healed wounds on his chest.

“What?”

She made a wrapping motion over her own body.

“Don’t touch me,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “I’m fine.”

Her face fell, the joy bleeding out as she nodded and tucked the box tight against her chest. “Sorry.”

“If you were sorry, you’d leave,” he said. “Or at least explain yourself.”

She shook her head.

“Then you’re not sorry.”

Sakura huffed, then took a deep breath as she turned to put the kit away. Kisame watched her slide among the shadows cast by the fire, her hair beginning to come undone from her braid with each flip of her head. He supposed it could be worse. She could be asking him incessant questions, or hitting him again, or worse...turning him over to Konoha as some sort of offering to get back in good graces.

“Thanks for keeping the fire stoked, I suppose,” he said.

She nodded once.

“Have you slept?”

Another nod, though it was accompanied by a shrug.

“Where?” Kisame asked. Sakura pointed to the blanket in the corner, and Kisame sighed. “You can’t sleep on the floor. Have the bed for tonight. I don’t care.”

She shook her head. 

“Take it.” He stood and held his blanket out to her, urging her to grab hold. “I’m not a monster, you know. I can take care of someone, even if they make a horrible first impression.” _Horrible_ was one word for it. Shocking, appalling, abhorrent all fit, too, but even _horrible_ caused her to shrink into the wall. “Oh, come on,” he growled. _“Take it.”_

She shook her head again, her entire body following as he stepped forward. The cooking implements she had scattered on the counter were swept out of the way by her back when she could move no further, and her hand flew in front of her. “NO.”

Kisame paused.

“No,” she said, voice faltering. “No.”

“Take the damned blanket,” he sighed. He didn’t look at her as he held it out, arm beginning to shake with the strain when she refused to take it. “Fine.” He dropped it on the kitchen chair. “Don’t. Bed’s yours. At least one of us can sleep well.” 

Sakura continued to cower.

Kisame forced his eyes away and picked up the blanket she’d used last night, draping it over his shoulders and sinking back down on the chair to settle in for the rest of the long night. There was a small part of him that felt guilty, like he was intruding, but he crushed the thought with the memory of ice cutting his chest open. _It’s_ my _home. And she’s human, why would I even consider--_

Both of their heads whipped to the door when the clicking began again. “The Senju?” he asked sarcastically, seconds before the kestrel called from a distance. “No…” Kisame stalked slowly to the door, poker at the ready once again. Sakura grabbed a knife and came to stand behind him. “Who is it?”

A low, raspy growl sounded.

“Get back,” Kisame whispered. His pulse thrummed, pushing icy fear through his veins with each beat. _Uchiha._ He turned slightly to see Sakura still there. “Hide,” he breathed. He jerked his head toward the bed. “Under there.”

Sakura moved painfully slow as to not alert the creature to her presence. Inch by inch, click by click, she tucked herself below the frame until all but invisible. Kisame held a finger to his lips, nodding slowly once and not waiting for a response before easing the bolt back for a second time that night.

Glowing red eyes met his, tendrils of black smoke polluting the air around them as the creature growled again. _“Ki-sa-me,”_ it grated. _“The...girl…”_

“You’re not welcome here,” he said. “This place is under my protection.”

_“She’s...here…”_

Kisame shook his head and stepped out, firmly shutting the door behind him. “No one is here but me.”

_“Li-ar.”_

“I said,” he began, voice holding no room for kindness, “get off of my land.”

A guttural sound burst from the creature as it began to shake with laughter. _“Our...land...now…”_

“Not until I see your claim on it, or som--”

The chance to finish his sentence was stolen as, seemingly from nowhere, an enormous cat slammed into the demon, screeching as it used tooth and nail to rip apart the Uchiha’s central mass. Snarling filled the grove when the cat turned to Kisame and fixed him with another crimson gaze, and its tongue lolled against a black-stained chin, teeth bared while it stalked toward him. 

“Stay away from me,” Kisame hissed, eyes flicking to the ruined snow.

The cat yowled, not to be dissuaded.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Kisame drew himself to his full height and widened his stance, looming over the beast. “I will kill you where you stand, so help me.”

The kestrel cried as it flew to rest on Kisame’s head, chattering at the cat excitedly and leaving Kisame utterly confused when it backed down. Its ears flattened as it sat on its haunches and narrowed its eyes, but did nothing more. Kisame grew more frustrated as the bird continued to talk until finally, he scoffed.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Both animals stared at him, then at the door as it creaked open. First came a lantern, then an arm, then the rest of Sakura’s body as she looked out with wide eyes. “You,” she breathed, slowly sinking to her knees. A shiver ripped through her as the wind picked up slightly, carrying her voice up to Kisame. “I told you~”

“You’re insane,” Kisame said. He held a hand out cautiously toward the cat as he knelt, being regarded with what looked to be a sneer. “Someone just got lost on their way toward the mountains,” he murmured. “And they managed to avert an attack…”

The second his knee touched the snow, he was thrown to the side as a blast of energy erupted from the cat, then the kestrel. He covered his eyes against the sight of green light, eerie in the dark, whipping through the grove as fur and feather faded to fair hair and lithe, _very human_ limbs. _“Managed,”_ the cat rumbled. “If you would have known anything about how to kill one yours--”

“Tobirama,” the kestrel chided. 

“What has the forest been taught?” the cat said. “Who’s been teaching them, Tsunade?”

“Tea--” Kisame bit off the rest of the word, stunned. “Tsu-To--” He blinked, words eluding him as the names sank in. _Senju? She was_ right _?_ “You, uh…”

“Cat got your tongue?” Tsunade asked, crossing her arms with a smirk. “Come on, uncle, let him go.”

“It’s not my fault he’s overwhelmed,” Tobirama said.

“Girl.” Tsunade extended a hand to where Sakura was paralyzed by the door. “You know us?”

“Gods,” Sakura whispered. 

“I like that, gods,” Tsunade mused.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Tobirama said. He adjusted the thick fur he wore around his neck and sniffed, looking down at Sakura. “You believe?”

“Believe _what?”_ Kisame asked.

“The tales of old,” Tobirama said. The forest stood silent as he and Tsunade stared at the girl, Tobirama quickly becoming irritated. _“Speak.”_

“‘When darkness falls, the forest rises,’” Sakura said, reedy and tremulous in the quiet as her arms came over her head. “‘Come north, come south, come east, come west’...there’s only two, though.” She put both hands to her face, and Kisame could nearly hear the thoughts flicking through her head when it bowed. “Is this...the Meet?”

“Good,” Tsunade said. _“Some_ remember.”

“The Naras…” Sakura’s eyes widened as she scrambled to her feet. 

“They’ll come in time,” Tobirama said. “Have you prepared a place for us? You must’ve felt us coming, at least. Seen the signs.”

“There’s no place here,” Kisame snapped. “That’s _bullshit._ If you cared so much about the damned darkness, where was the lord of the sea when everyone abandoned it? Where was the _care_ when I saw my life torn apart by sailors?”

“He had his own business to attend to,” Tobirama said, stepping toward him. “We all did, and you’d be wise to remember wh--”

“Past is in the past,” Tsunade said. She slid between them and put a hand on each chest, pushing them back. “Kisame, we’ve watched you. It is truly unfortunate that none of the old teachings seem to have stuck with you.”

“I didn’t have much time for being worshipful among keeping the entire area safe,” he said. His eyes narrowed, a low growl building in his chest at the sight of Sakura motioning _no._ “I needed help, and got fuck all because _Lord--”_ everyone winced at the vicious sarcasm-- “Iruka was off doing his ‘own business.’”

“Kisame--” Sakura pointed over his shoulder.

“My ‘own business,’” a low voice purred, “happened to be ferrying your precious family as well as sea creatures away from the shoreline when they called for my help.” Kisame froze as a hand settled on his shoulder, burning hot even through the cold. “We’re not fools,” the voice said. “We know what’s coming.”

“Iruka,” Tsunade said.

The familiar scent of seaweed and salt enveloped Kisame with the god’s outbreath, leaving him bereft when Iruka slid to his side. “Simply telling him the truth, Tsunade,” the selkie lord said. “Aren’t we all so thankful he’s volunteered to stay behind and aid us?”

“I haven’t volunteered to do anything.”

“Kisame,” Sakura hissed.

“Is that the only damned word you know?” Tobirama turned to her, silencing her as he tipped her chin up with a bone-white hand. “Of all the people I considered the forest might pick…” he said, trailing off. He looked her up and down, giving no concern to how she shook. “You were supposed to be so strong,” he said. “Look at you.”

“She’s not had the chance to prove herself,” Iruka said. “She’s still standing, isn’t she?”

“Barely,” Tobirama said.

Kisame, without thinking, grabbed her away and tucked her behind him. “Keep your hands off of her.”

All three gods stepped back in shock. “Unexpected,” Tsunade said.

“Most irregular,” Tobirama said.

“How long have you two been together?” Iruka asked.

Sakura shoved Kisame to the side, firmly shaking her head. 

“Thought gods didn’t make mistakes,” Kisame said.

“Then why is she drenched in your scent and living with you?” Tobirama asked, letting his weight settle back on one foot. “If she’s the person who will bring about the destruction of the  Uchiha--”

Sakura’s face crumpled when Iruka shook his head in disgust. “She doesn’t look like she could hurt a fly,” he said.

“She nearly killed me,” Kisame said. At the three confused looks, lit by the slowly rising sun, he narrowed his eyes and pointed to the wounds on his chest. “Yes, me.”

“Mm.” Tsunade’s face softened upon seeing Sakura’s swimming eyes. “Have you slept, child?”

Sakura stayed still.

“Go in peace,” Tsunade continued, gesturing to the cabin. “There’s time to wait until my son arrives. Rest.” She placed two fingers in the middle of Sakura’s forehead and shut her eyes, a soft green light emanating from her skin. With her other hand, she motioned for Kisame. “Take her.”

In his arms, she felt no heavier than a tiny seal pup. Her face was slack, breathing deep and even as she burrowed closer to his chest. “What did you do?”

“She’ll wake in a few hours,” Tsunade said. “The rest of us have things to discuss.”

“A _lot_ to discuss,” Kisame said darkly. “And some things to pr--” The word cut off as a crashing sounded from their left, growing closer by the second. “Prove…” He took a step back, holding Sakura close.

“Help,” came a faint cry.

Tsunade paled. “Tenzou,” she whispered. Snow flew as she started forward, Tobirama heading immediately after. Iruka took one final look at Kisame before following. 

Kisame used the opportunity to whirl around and retreat to the cabin, locking the door behind him and leaning against it, breathing heavily. “Wake up,” he said, shaking Sakura. “Come on, come on--”

She just laid there, limp.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” he growled. Depositing her on the bed, he looked out the small window to see Tsunade and Iruka half-helping, half-dragging someone between them. “What have you gotten _me_ into?”

Tobirama’s voice sounded from the door just before his knock. “He’s hurt,” he said. “Badly.”

Kisame ran his fingers through his hair, inhaling sharply. “There’s no room for a body,” he said.

“Make room.” Tobirama’s tone held no room for disobedience, and Kisame swept an arm across the table to clear it. Not even the clacking of plates and bowls against the floor caused Sakura to stir, something he was grateful for as the door banged open for a heavily bleeding faun to be dragged through. 

“Put him here,” Kisame said.

The faun gave a sharp cry of pain when his leg--quite obviously broken--scraped against the table, and again when the deep laceration across his side settled on the wood. “No, no, stop,” he moaned, pawing uselessly at Tsunade’s arms when she began to look him over. “Catch them--”

“Who?” Iruka asked.

Tenzou grabbed for Tobirama’s offered hand. “The Hound,” he gasped, “and the Fallen. Coming quick.”

“I’ll go,” Iruka said.

“You’re weaker on land,” Tsunade said. “Tobirama, go. We’ll set wards around the house.”

“I recognize that name,” Kisame said. Tobirama all but flew out the door, and he was left to let Tsunade bark orders, heating water and gathering cloth for her when she asked for them. Iruka soothed Tenzou with a song Kisame recognized from the whales, a haunting melody that seemed impossible on land.

Sakura still didn’t wake.

“Keep pressure on that,” Tsunade ordered as she maneuvered Kisame’s hands to push down on the wound, Tenzou writhing under them. More light began to pour from her hands and into the faun’s body, and Kisame looked on in wonder as it spread under Tenzou’s skin. He gleamed with it, glowed in the dawn while Tsunade knit her brow in concentration. An undignified grunt burst from her chest just before the light vanished. “Tenzou,” she murmured.

No reaction, and Iruka tapped the faun’s cheek.

“Tenzou,” she said again, louder, and Kisame winced when Iruka slapped him. “Hey, there’s no need for that.”

“He still needs help,” Iruka said. “Easier if he can tell us exactly what happened, so we know if any precautions need to be taken.”

Tenzou clutched listlessly at Iruka’s sleeve and mumbled something unintelligible. 

“Speak up,” Tsunade said softly.

“It was his dogs,” Tenzou whispered. “Couldn’t run fast enough.” His head rolled back and forth on the table, brow knitting as his eyes shut. “Got me.”

“Was it just the dogs?” Iruka asked, and Tenzou nodded. “Thankfully,” the selkie continued, breathing a sigh of relief. “Orochimaru didn’t reach you?”

“Just Kakashi.”

Iruka fell quiet at that, threading his fingers through Tenzou’s hair and gnawing on his lip in contemplation. Tsunade removed Kisame’s hands to reveal the wound was largely healed, now requiring only a few stitches to close it. “Why not all the way?” he asked.

“I need to conserve my energy,” she said. “Why is there no protection over this place?”

“You think _I_ have the energy to keep up warding when I’m being pulled in all different directions?” Kisame asked.

“It’s nearly March,” Iruka said. “How many months have you been here?”

“Two days, because I don’t have anyone to watch the water!” Kisame’s outburst rattled them, that much was obvious, but he didn’t particularly mind. “All I have done since I got back was discover I wasn’t alone, get the life beaten out of me, and traipse through _fuck_ knows how much snow and ice just to get back to my _HOME.”_

“Oh,” Tsunade said, blinking owlishly. “That’s...I’m--”

“Useless,” Kisame muttered. He met her eyes with a defiant stare. “You’re no god of mine. Not until all of this gets resolved.”

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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